Chapter 10 #2
When Natasha entered, a strong fragrance hit me. Not Elena's subtle lemon scent. This smell was artificially sweet and cloying.
"You look tired, Igor." Her voice was soft, strangely gentle.
I glanced at her. She looked haggard, deep shadows under her high cheekbones, but those brown eyes burned frighteningly bright.
"Your father's going to prison," I said, leaning back in my chair. "What are you doing here? This is the Bratva, not a police station."
Natasha let out a sharp laugh like breaking glass. "I didn't expect the FBI to move so fast. Just days, and my family's fallen so far!"
She walked to my desk, placing her bag on top. Then she braced her hands on the surface, leaning forward, revealing her pale chest.
"I'm here to beg you, Igor. Only you can help me now. Marry me as planned, and my family returns to its former position."
"I can't help you."
"You can." She straightened, and after some movement, the coat slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her feet.
Under the coat, she wore nothing. Her body was perfect—a ballerina's physique, long and tight. Any man would go crazy for it. But I only felt sick.
My body had no reaction. It was dead inside.
"She's gone, Igor. That woman abandoned you. You sit on this cold throne with an empty heart." Natasha circled the desk, walking toward me. Naked, she clicked across the floor in heels.
"But I'll never abandon you, Igor. I'm here. I'm the one who truly loves you." She reached out, her cold fingertips stroking my cheek, tracing my jawline.
I grabbed her wrist.
"Get out." My voice held no desire, only exhaustion.
Her smile froze.
"You really, for her..." Her expression began twisting, that carefully maintained pride crumbling piece by piece. "You'd rather masturbate than touch me? How am I inferior to her? That slum trash!"
"You're inferior in every way." I released her hand, standing. "Now get out before I kill you."
My words clearly stung her. Insane hatred blazed in her eyes.
"Fine... fine, Igor." She backed away two steps, suddenly pulling something from her expensive purse.
An elegant perfume bottle—at least it looked like perfume. Security hadn't taken it away. But when Natasha pressed the nozzle, it wasn't ordinary perfume that sprayed out—it was a strange mist, aimed straight at my face.
I instinctively held my breath, but too late. I'd inhaled some.
"You..." Sudden fatigue swept over me. My knees buckled, and I collapsed back into the chair. "You bitch, what did you do to me?"
I gritted my teeth, trying to lift my arms, but they were impossibly heavy. I failed.
"Just something to make you behave. You think you're so powerful, Igor?" Natasha dropped the bottle, her face flushed with sick excitement. "You're just a man. A man who needs to be taught a lesson."
She spread her legs, straddling my thighs.
"No..." I tried to push her off, but my body wouldn't obey. The drug had paralyzed my muscles, leaving only my consciousness.
"Shh—" She leaned down, lips against my ear. "You'll like it. You'll remember what you should have."
She ground against me, trying to arouse a response. She started undoing my belt.
Rage exploded inside me like lava. This damned, sick woman!
Just as she lowered her head to kiss my lips, my right hand shot up with muscle-tearing speed, grabbing her throat.
"Ugh—" All her movements stopped.
My hand trembled from the drug, but all my strength concentrated in those five fingers.
"I'll kill you!" My voice was dangerous and hoarse.
Natasha's face turned purple, her eyes bulging in terror. Her hands clawed frantically at my wrist, nails drawing blood on my skin.
"Igor... ugh..." She couldn't make a sound.
I wanted to crush her, make her pay for touching me.
The drug pulled at my consciousness, but my killing intent was stronger.
My fingers tightened another inch. I heard the sickening creak of her throat bones.
Just as she was about to suffocate, survival instinct gave her a final burst of strength.
She threw herself backward with everything she had, tumbling off my knees and crashing to the floor.
Natasha curled up like a dying fish, coughing desperately, gasping for air. After a moment, she crawled backward, grabbing her coat, staring at me in terror as if seeing a demon.
I gripped the armrests, trying to stand, but my body still wouldn't cooperate. Seeing I couldn't get up, her fear faded slightly, replaced by deeper hatred.
"You... you maniac!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. "You really would have killed me, you bastard!"
Then she threw on her coat and stumbled out of the office.
I slumped in the chair, breathing hard. I looked down at myself—my belt half undone. Violence coiled in my chest. The damned drug finally began wearing off. I took a deep breath and refastened my belt.
The wallet still lay on the desk, the "I.V." glinting in the dim light. I reached for it, and the moment my fingertips touched the leather, I felt alive again.
I looked at the wallet in my hand, whispering. "Wait for me, Elena. No matter where you are, no matter how long it takes."
I would become stronger, strong enough that no one would dare stand in my way. Then I'd go to Italy, step onto Salvatore's territory, and bring Elena home. This time, I wouldn't let anyone—including my own weakness—become an obstacle.